Dinner and... an essay

At the end of the evening after hosting a proper sit-down dinner party after ages, there was a sense of accomplishment. Yet even as I was getting ready to send a friend pictures of his kid petting Scout... I could read text notifications from my cousins. 

One cousin had texted that their parents had had a house fire and that aunt and uncle were ok; another cousin seems to be trying to get a family in the Ukraine to safety, but only the mom had a passport. 

How we live our lives in the presence of ongoing tragedies is rationally irreconcilable with our good intentions and thoughts. Mari Andrew's essay, which Mel at Stirrup Queens pointed me to, is a wise consolation: "Someone has always clinked a cocktail glass in one hemisphere as someone loses a home in another while someone falls in love in the same apartment building where someone grieves. The fact that suffering, mundanity, and beauty coincide is unbearable and remarkable."

Perhaps someday I will be able to reach her conclusion that "The world feels so sharp and crooked right now. I, for one, am at a complete loss, and my feelings are all over the place—as they should be. But I'm appreciating my little moments of bliss like energy bars for the road ahead, and embracing my sadness in all its wisdom."

Pic: Nu and Huck paying attention to stories about the E.R. from dad.

puppy snuggles and cricket memories

It was national puppy day, I think? I'm late as usual. I love this one with Huck's arm draped around Scout's shoulder... they're both lying on my feet (of course!),  which is why I couldn't get a fuller shot.

I've picked up the contradictory habit of watching movies in episode-length segments (it goes nicely with my other weird habit of watching multiple episodes of a show at one go). 

Anyway, finished watching "83" (in about four segments) and enjoyed how much old cricket lore came back to me as I watched it. It's a typical underdog sports story, and bit overdone in some parts, but I enjoyed it and yelped in surprise and delight when the real Kapil Dev made a cameo appearance.

Some of the nicest days in my childhood were when "pavillion" tickets to a match (passed on by cricketeer uncles/dad's work/well-connected family) showed up and we'd be allowed to skip school to spend all day at the stadium. Being stuck at school when a big match was on was the worst: kids these days don't know the painful suspense of finding out the score from the tuck shop radio or having to depend on friendly teachers who could bring us the latest from the teachers' lounge TV.

the return

home seems habitual

the way it sings to us

tells us special things 

no one else will

the joy of sitting here 

ruined with utter love 

or something edging

it up until 

the singularity of life

skimming the years

dims these currents 

into standstill

so we jump narrative

rewind our best parts

outside the visible

--ask for a refill

Pic: Big A is back! We were at our desk trying to work on a project, but Scout and Huckie thought they needed to check in on us.

wild and precious time

I chuckle/howl/bawl-ed so hard at this one.

I love Mary Oliver's "The Summer Day" poem so much and love that other people love it too and love that it became something people passed around in the pandemic. I mean there's apparently a whole Pinterest section on it.

But this Sarah Lazarus take on it is hilarious. We have literally been using this line of inquiry to make decisions on birthday plans, vacations, work duties.

Travel, especially, seems to require some unsentimental evaluation. I have some coming up: an honor society meeting with students early April; a site-visit for the big NWSA conference in May; and... do we dare plan a non-US family vacation in June?

prayer in March

Here I ask the seeds 

to push past mud 

to present hope

watching how answers 

in every fresh year

lie about

this yearning for mottled
softness to appear

under trees

Note: I liked the idea of using "past," "present," "lie" etc. as seeds that could be read in more than one way.

Pic: Our tea garden/my happy place. I have the remnants of my birthday flowers... but also a late amaryllis, and some early cyclamen, bougainvillea, begonias, hyacinths, and crocuses coming up! 

mud and miracles

Just the perfect day for a barn-raising at Tender Heart Gardens, the queer gardening collective Nu and I joined up and fundraised for. We spent a couple of hours getting muddy, prepping beds, setting up mulch, etc. etc. etc.

It was perfectly bright and sunny; plus, with yesterday's rain at our backs everything was so much easier to clear and tackle. SS, LAS, BS, and CL came to work alongside us... there were dozens of volunteers this time! 

My mom-style snacks weren't laughed at by the cool kids, I was able to hand off CL's birthday presents in person, and Nu and I went to a deli with SS and LAS in our muddy clothes for lunch before coming home to thorough showers and a nap.

I planned to use just the top picture, which I took myself, but then this second picture showed up and I found my bossy stance hilarious, so here I am.

SO excited for the change of seasons and cautiously hopeful for the pandemic's waning. 

love + pizza + Pera

Scout and Huckie ate up all the extra love and any pizza that happened to come their way when BS and CF hung out with us this evening and we ate pizza and talked school (H.S. and grad) stuff and some of us drank some syrupy wine that's been sitting in the fridge since the Galentine's Day party. I love how intergenerational our group is--CF, me, BS, and Nu are each from/in different decades in life.

But we all enjoy Joe Pera. Which--in case you haven't seen it--feels kind of like a Mr. Rogers for grownups. Originally on Adult Swim, but super lowkey and calming and you can trust nothing awful will happen. Some weeks need a show like this. 

Plus, it takes place in Michigan (Marquette, to be precise), so us Michiganders are obligated to watch it.